When my son, Ben, was born, I was in the fortunate position of not being able to follow the Ashkenazi tradition of naming a child after close relatives who had passed on.

Back then my father and his dad — my grandfather — were still very much alive. Grandpa did have another son, my uncle Frank, a young naval officer who died on D-Day. But this had already been gifted to me as a middle name .

Nick Freemans grandfather Ben

Nick Freeman's grandfather Ben

Three decades on and sadly neither my dad and my grandfather are with us any more. So when we welcomed a  baby boy into our family nine months ago, an opportunity arose for  their names to be memorialised in this new life.

I decided against using Keith, my late father’s name. Dad had  succumbed to an aggressive brain tumour in his early 70s and I didn’t want to be reminded of his terrible suffering.

In contrast my beloved grandpa  Emmanuel “Manny” Freeman had lived in rude health until the age of   103. And when I had a particularly  vivid dream about my grandfather around the time we were looking for a name for our new arrival, it seemed almost beshert.

What’s more, my grandfather’s life  story has always been a source of fathomless inspiration. A penniless refugee, he came to Britain from Romania  at the age of two with his blind mother and ailing older brother, the family fleeing grinding poverty and terrible antisemitism.

Nick Freeman and his dog ben named after his Grandfather

Nick Freeman and his dog ben named after his Grandfather

He left school at 12 to work on market stalls and went on to become proprietor of two ladies fashion shops and a factory. But he was also a man of profound sense of love and charity — taking in a  young refugee, Harry Kornhauser,  from the Kindertransport,  and raising him as his own son. Who wouldn’t want to name a new arrival after such a giant of a man?

Additionally,  in Hebrew the name Emmanuel means “God is with us” — a message  that is so important to me.

And so our English bull terrier puppy is known as Manny. Sorry, didn’t I mention I was talking about our new dog?

A gorgeous fellow with black fur broken by a dash of white, like a brush of paint, and  a triangular face that exudes keen-eyed intelligence.

His lightning ability to learn and fathomless capacity for love reminds me so much of his namesake.

Yet I realise that some might think such a move is disrespectful. How can you call a dog — a dog! — after your grandfather? But actually I think grandpa would have greeted the news with a throaty chuckle. Had I thought for a moment that he would disapprove I wouldn’t have done it.

Before we got Manny, my  grandfather was often in my thoughts  — his picture hangs in the offices of my law firm. Yet now,  through calling  his name constantly — albeit when remonstrating Manny  for chewing my partner’s bras —   Grandpa is even more present. And there’s no confusion when I shout Manny’s name in the park.

Can Rex, Rover and Buddy claim such exclusivity ?

The name also works because Manny is such a Jewish dog — he stands by my side when I put on my tallis and tefillin. I’ve also taught him how to wait for food by using the commands  “trei f” and “kosher”.

As Jews we remember those who have passed on by  making them ever present in our lives. I firmly believe giving Grandpa’s name to my dog  is the greatest tribute I can pay to a wonderful man.